Beyond the Door
by Josie Lange
Summary: Alistair pauses at the closed door when he hears Elissa's voice on the other side. He presses his ear firmly to it and listens. "What is she DOING?" All he has to do is turn the handle to find out. But will he do it?


_**Thanks as always to super speedy and awesome beta Suilven for her sharp eye! You are awesome, my friend!**_

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><p>It had been a hectic couple of weeks.<p>

Alistair sat in an overstuffed chair in his room at Arl Eamon's estate in Redcliffe, trying not to let the memories of his childhood overwhelm him. He remembered this room as being much larger; of course, to a child's eye, everything was much larger.

He had been slightly apprehensive when the Arl had made his offer of hospitality to Elissa after they had returned with the Sacred Ashes and had brought him back to health. Alistair had rarely felt welcome here as a child. He knew of the rumors that had often circulated about his parentage, and knew that the Arlessa herself had resented him because of those rumors. When they had first arrived and learned about Redcliffe's plight, Arlessa Isolde had, even then, still looked upon him as nothing more than a nuisance. She had been more than willing, however, to beg their help to free Connor from the demon that held him and send them off on a dangerous—and possibly fruitless—quest to find Andraste's Sacred Ashes.

Alistair snorted lightly to himself. _I was good enough to be her errand boy, just like I was good enough to be a stable boy._

Elissa, seeing the opportunity for a few days of much-needed rest and recuperation, had gratefully accepted the Arl's offer to remain in Redcliffe as his guests. The Arlessa, to Alistair's surprise, had gone out of her way to make sure the Grey Wardens and their companions had the best of everything while at the estate. They had generous meals of pork, fish, and foul. Bread, fresh butter, and dried fruits were plentiful, as were barrels of ale and wine. She had even brought out several wheels of the Redcliffe cheese that Alistair so loved. Their guest rooms had the best linens and the Arlessa had even made sure her guests had the finest clothing she could procure on short notice.

Alistair had to admit, he enjoyed this little bit of luxury. He stretched and yawned broadly as he lounged in his chair, looking across the room to the plush bed against the far wall. He felt a grin pull at his lips. Perhaps it was time to take advantage of _another _luxury while they were here—a soft, warm bed that just begged to be used for activities other than sleeping. He and Elissa would have to be discrete, however. Should they be caught by the Arlessa engaging in what lovers often engaged in, it would scandalize her and quite possibly see them turned out of Redcliffe despite whatever protests the Arl would muster. She likely thought she was protecting Elissa's status as a Cousland and as a teyrn's daughter by giving her a room separate from the other companions and would not tolerate anything that might besmirch Elissa's reputation.

Just the thought of Elissa in his bed made his trousers and smalls grow tighter around him. _Well, only one way to take care of that._ Rising from his chair, Alistair made his way through the halls of Redcliffe Castle, searching for his love. He poked his head into open doorways and greeted servants as they passed. How would he get her to his room? Maybe he would just take her by the hand and then ravish her when they returned…

He paused as he heard Elissa's voice from beyond the closed door next to him. She was in a small parlor in the guest wing of the castle. As Alistair reached for the door handle, he heard a second voice from the other side. _Zevran? What is _he_ doing with Elissa?_ He pressed his ear to the wood, listening.

"It's a little crooked, my lovely Warden," Zevran said from behind the door. "Just touch here first, and then here. It will straighten out."

Alistair heard Elissa giggle from the other side. "Are you sure, Zevran?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure. I'm very experienced in such things. Just touch it; give it a little pull."

"Like this?"

Zevran chuckled low. "Yes, _cara mia_. Just so."

Alistair felt his brow lower in confusion. _What's going on in there?_ Shifting his weight on his feet, Alistair pressed his ear closer to the door, straining to listen to the small sounds coming from within. It sounded like rustling but with the thickness of the wood between them, he could not be sure.

"Is this better?" Alistair heard Elissa ask with a low laugh. "I'm so _bad_ at this."

"Nonsense. You just need more practice and I am more than willing to show you. You will get better in time. Now, tap it gently. Yes, that's it. You must make love to it."

"That's a strange way of putting it, don't you think?"

Alistair felt his anger begin to rise; a heat blooming on his cheeks that he knew was beginning to turn them a blotchy red. _What is she_ doing?_ She can't be…_

Elissa groaned from behind the door, which apparently prompted a laugh from Zevran. "Oh, _cara mia_. You worked so hard to put it in there…"

"I _told_ you I was bad at this, Zevran."

"Here, let me show you. I'm going to use little rocking strokes here… feel the difference?"

"Oh _yes!_" Elissa said, her voice taking on a hint of excitement. "I see what you mean!"

"This will be our little secret, _cara mia._ Don't tell anyone."

Elissa's voice became a low purr. "Your secret is safe with me, Zev."

Alistair felt his rage boil over. How could Elissa _do_ this to him? _She said she loved me! Liar!_ With a snarl, Alistair grasped the handle and turned it, shoving the door open so forcefully that it banged against the wall on the other side. The echo reverberated through the room and hallway, but Alistair barely heard it in his rage. He turned his head toward where he had heard Elissa and Zevran's voices…

… And saw her standing before an easel and canvas, a paint palette in one hand and brush in the other. She wore an oversized shirt over her tunic and trousers, bits of paint spattered on the light fabric. Zevran stood next to her with a brush of his own in his hand. They both jumped and turned toward the sound of the banging door, looks of surprise on both their faces. Alistair saw that Elissa had a small splotch of blue paint on her cheek. It stood out in stark contrast to her suddenly pale face.

"Alistair! What in the Void are you doing?" Elissa said, placing the hand holding the brush over her heart as if to still its racing. The brush made contact with her shirt, leaving a greenish smudge on the fabric. Alistair's eyes quickly moved to the canvas behind her; she was painting a scene showing the view outside her window overlooking the cliffs and the shore of Lake Calenhad.

The anger quickly bled away to be replaced by acute embarrassment. Alistair felt his cheeks burn even hotter than before. "Liss, I thought—I mean—I heard you and Zevran talking and I thought—"

As Elissa's face scrunched in confusion, Zevran's expression turned to one of wry amusement. "What did you think we were doing? Surely you didn't think I was taking your lovely Warden's virtue, no?"

Alistair said nothing, but merely shifted on his feet and cursed his face for giving away _exactly_ what he had been thinking. He sheepishly met Elissa's now hardening gaze and shrugged slightly. Setting down her palette and brush, Elissa yanked the paint covered shirt over her head, smearing the smudge of paint on her face. She turned the shirt inside out and angrily swiped at her cheek, succeeding in smearing the paint even more rather than wiping it off her skin. She threw the shirt onto the floor with a huff and pointed at Alistair. "You. Are. Insufferable!" she said, angrily brushing past him and into the hallway beyond.

"Liss! Wait!" Alistair turned back toward Zevran, leveling an accusatory finger at him as Elissa's angry mutterings faded. "This is all _your_ fault!"

"_My _fault?" Zevran said, setting his brush down next to the easel. "I was not the one thinking such thoughts. I was merely teaching her how to paint. She needed distraction from all the darkspawn killing."

"But… you were talking about pulling… and touching… and making love…"

"I was merely showing her how to apply paint to the canvas. And as for 'making love', some of the brush strokes require a delicate touch. 'Making love' was simply a metaphor for how she should make the brush interact with the canvas. Gently, slowly, but forcefully when needed." Zevran grinned once more, a sly, wolfish gesture. "Apparently, someone's mind was on just such an act, no? Perhaps it is best for you to find your lovely Warden and… apologize to her?"

Alistair turned with a snort and stalked off. It looked like his bed would have to wait.

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><p><em>The inspiration for this one shot came from artist Bob Ross, who hosted a show on public television called "The Joy of Painting." He was a very soft spoken man and used all sorts funny and quirky little phrases when he was painting his outdoor scenery ("cabinectomy," "a hair and some air," etc.). Some of Zevran's phrases are ones that he used in his show to demonstrate his painting technique ("make love to it," "just give it a little pull," "tap it gently"). However, the REAL inspiration came from a parody of Bob Ross that was played on the radio by the morning show that I listen to. It took his very innocent phrases and made them, well, dirty.<br>_

_I'll never watch "The Joy of Painting" in the same way again. :p  
><em>


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